


High

by SmackTheDevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Sex on Furniture, Sibling Incest, Smoking, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-11-02 04:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmackTheDevil/pseuds/SmackTheDevil
Summary: Dean makes use of the pot he stole from 'Ganja Girl'.He's not sorry.





	High

Dean Winchester never had a problem with stealing. A jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread had been the one and only time he had got caught as a kid. As if _that_ had been his first time (or last). As he got older, it had been a case of ‘_Hell, I deserve this_’; lifting porn from a shut down rural gas station, a priority for anyone who had just spent forty years in Hell. The Viagra had been a fun ‘lift’, although Sam’s ass would disagree. Most recently it had been a baggie full of pot carefully removed from the pocket of whom Dean had referred to as ‘_Ganja Girl_’ while they discussed junk-less green-eyed monsters. Sam smelt it the moment they were in the car and had shut their doors. In sync, naturally.

“Dude, I can smell it.”

“Smell what?” Dean was smirking, he wasn’t even going to attempt to hide it. It stank.

“The pot.” Sam was doing that pinched ass face of his and winding the window down in that dramatic ‘_I really don’t approve_’ way that Sam did so well.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with it. It’s no different to kale.”

“Dean, it’s the complete opposite to kale. You can’t put pot on a pizza.”

“I disagree.” 

They had argued all the way back to the bunker which had been quite a remarkable feat since they had driven all the way from Colorado, stopped several times for gas _and_ slept overnight in a motel. Sam and Dean Winchester – Saving People, Bickering About Things, The Family Business. Sam had tried to steal it back, the baggie of pot, but he was worse than useless and had Dean caught him each time he tried, which had been five.

“Quit tryin’ to steal my pot. What is wrong with you?”

_LATER_

“No."

“Yes.” Dean looked up from a table in the library, he looked really happy.

“No, Dean. You are not stinking up the bunker with your pot.”

“Well, Sammy. I hate to break it to you. But, uh. I’m gonna.” Dean said, grinning at Sam as he twisted his newly purchased wooden grinder which had poorly painted picture of a tiger on it. “Look, it’s got a tiger on it.” Dean grinned, showing the grinder to Sam.

“We have no windows.”

Dean leaned back and glanced around the bunker then went back to his grinding.

“Huh, no we don’t.” Dean said, as if he only just noticed. “Weird. But we do have air con and you have your own room, so I suggest you go in there.”

“I have research to do.” Sam sat in a chair opposite Dean at the table. “When did you buy all of this stuff?” He said, flicking a pack of rolling tobacco with a long disapproving finger.

“This mornin’. I am goin’ to get myself good and high.”

“But Dean, tobacco?”

“You think I’m worried about that? Sit back and think about our lives Sammy. You can guzzle all the kale smoothies you like and go out runnin’ at 3AM but that ain’t gonna save you.”

“I like to look after myself.” 

“That’s great, at least you’ll go out in a blaze of glory with a tip top colon.” Dean winked. “And talkin’ of blaze of glory, I’m about to skin up and your ‘Wi-Fi forehead’ is distractin’ me. So either fuck off to your room, or just embrace my rights as a human bein’ to get myself baked.” 

“Fine.” Sam gave the table a shove as he stood up. He gathered together his books and his laptop, clutching them against his chest.

“Gimme some sugar before you go?” Dean said craning his neck up for a kiss.

“No. I’m not in the mood.” Sam snapped as he left the library.

“You know you’re the woman in this relationship right?!” Dean called out.

“Screw you!”

“Oh Sammy.” Dean said, running his tongue along the length of the rolling paper. “You sweet summer man-child.”

_EVEN LATER_

Dean couldn’t help it. It was a book that Sam had left open on the table, some ratty old lore book with crude illustrations of ancient mythical beings. A lot of them were naked and had odd shape penises and Dean was finding every picture absolutely hilarious. 

“I can hear you from way down the hall!” Sam yelled behind a hand over his nose and mouth. 

“Look at this dudes dong, man.” Dean chuckled. “It looks like Walter Kronkite.” He said, holding the book up.

“How old are you?” Sam swiped.

“12?” Dean offered, wiping tears from his rosy cheeks. “Man, you really need to lighten up. Show me your penis.”

“No. God, Dean!” Sam was off again, his fabulous hair catching the breeze as he flounced in the direction of the kitchen.

“Make me a sandwich!” Dean yelled back. “Ah. That was funny.” He muttered as he got up and made himself comfortable in a leather armchair. Dean toed off his boots, relaxed and took a long hit from his joint, head back, eyes closed and feeling pretty perfect. Dean was leaving ‘Phase One’. Phase One was the giggles, the ancient comedy dicks had served their purpose and ‘Phase Two’ was about to kick in. Dean Winchester was feeling hella horny and his brother was trapped in the bunker with him and woe betide Sam even _thinking_ about trying to brush off the advances that Dean was planning in his head. Or heads. Either or.

Sam though, aside from often being a little holier than thou was a needy little bitch at times mostly when he was drunk, a trait he would deny until he was blue in the face but he was soon wandering back into the weed fog filled library, dragging his feet and hovering.

“Didn’t make me my sandwich?”

“No. You’re not on Phase Three yet.”

“Hm. Well, maybe if you could put away your moral compass, Captain Killjoy, we could have some fun together.”

“No.”

“C’mon Sammy. Just get a little high with me.” Dean was sat spread open and was nursing an impressive erection. Even Sam couldn’t deny that in itself was temptation enough. He dragged another comfy chair from the other side of the room and placed it opposite Dean who had been holding the joint out as an offering ever since Sam walked back in to the library. Sam pursed his lips as he took it from Dean’s fingers, handling it like it was about to explode in his face at any moment. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”

“Hm.” Sam scoffed but took a hit anyway. He flicked his hair with a snap of his neck, tipped his head back and inhaled deeply on the joint. So deeply that Dean raised his eyebrows. And then, Sam exhaled gently puffing out five perfectly formed smoke rings. Dean watched the way Sam’s prominent Adam’s Apple bobbed and his dick lifted languidly from his body. It made him groan.

“Jesus, Sammy.” Dean smirked. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

“I’m ‘quiet’ am I?” Sam said, pressing his back into the padded leather chair and glowering at Dean through the smoke.

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged, but the reply was hesitant as he underestimated his baby brother once again. He watched Sam take another long drag. Sam knew how to smoke and it was making Dean feel fidgety and weird. “How do you know how to do that so well?” He frowned.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, De.” 

“Yeah, but. You’re Sam.”

“And you’re Dean. My big brother.” Sam scoffed. “My big brother who thinks I’m still some scrawny kid who needs saving. That I’m vanilla and dull. You think I’m bookish and a nerd.” Sam flicked his narrow eyes at his brother.

“No.” Dean said indignantly.

“Bull. Shit.” Sam stood up and it was always marvelous when Sam stood up. He cast a shadow over Dean’s body, politely handed the blunt back to him and started on unbuckling his own belt. “Think back, Dean. _Really_ think back. Think about what I’ve done and then call me ‘quiet’.” Sam’s belt jangled as he unzipped his pants and his stiffening cock sat nicely in between the open zipper, held back by his boxers. He knelt between Dean’s open legs and gripped his thighs.

“I mean, I-”

“No. _I’m_ talking.” Sam smirked, pulling Dean’s pants down and tugging them from under his ass.

“O-okay.” Dean lifted his ass from the chair because Sam was in control and had intent in his eyes. And really, Dean was never a bottom. Not in life, not in bed. But.

“Remember how I got hooked on demon blood?” Sam said the words as if he were reminiscing about the good old days.

“Y-you were tryin’ to help.”

“Is that so?” Sam chuckled as he pulled Dean’s pants from around his ankles, taking his socks with them. “At the time, you were ashamed of me. Huh, funny how suddenly your perspective has changed. Ass.”

“Well, I-”

“Still. Talking.” Sam sat up and worked the buttons on Dean’s shirt. “All that crap I did when I didn’t have a soul.”

“Yeah but, you didn’t have a soul.”

“I was still me.” Sam sighed as he pushed Dean’s shirt over his freckled shoulders. He groaned and looked Dean dead in the eyes. “You’re not the only who’s killed people Dean. Not the only one who’s slept with women, only to walk out the next day without so much as a ‘see you’. You think I’m a nerd, that’s fine.”

Dean was limp as Sam manhandled him, stripping his big brother down in such a matter of fact way that Dean’s boxers were tenting with rage.

“I just, I-”

“Hm, got somethin’ to say, ‘sweetheart’?” Sam smirked now that he had Dean almost naked, silenced into submission and writhing with need against the creaking leather.

“No.” 

“Huh, how’s that for a win? Dean Winchester has _nothin’_ to say. And De.” Sam traced the line of Dean’s thick dick through his boxers and gently peeled back the waistband. Dean hissed as it sprung up in ‘slo-mo’, sweat and precome damp. “You _always_ forget the most important fact about me.” Sam purposely paused to allow Dean to speak.

“Which is?” Dean muttered the question out as his boxers were dragged down his heavy thighs. Sam pulled them off and grunted out approval at the sight. He leaned forward, body pressed against Dean’s which was buzzing with arousal. Sam opened his mouth against Dean’s left ear. 

“I let my strong, brave big brother fuck me in the ass and I love it.” Sam whispered, steaming Dean’s ear with his hot breath. Dean could have slapped Sam across the face as the younger Winchester moved back, stood up and begun to strip out of his clothes.

“Fuckin’ tease.” Dean said, slightly shocked by Sam’s words. He took a quick hit from the blunt and set it down in the ash tray next to him.

“Don’t underestimate me, Dean. Never do that. Because I could pin you down right now and screw you with this cock.” Sam said, pushing his underwear down and there it was. Sam Winchester’s deliciously huge prick which in another life Dean would gladly sit on and ride it off into the sunset. 

“I ain’t-” Dean protested.

“I know, baby. You’re a coward, you can’t or won’t take it for whatever reason your fragile masculinity dictates.”

“What the fuck, fuck you Sammy.” Dean spat. And he was up, grabbing Sam by the arms and kicking his ankles to make him walk toward the table. A little technique they had learned when manhandling ‘prisoners’. Sam was bent over the table, his head was pressed against the edge of an open book and Dean was kicking his legs open, hawking loudly and Sam was getting exactly what he wanted.

“No lube?” Sam said, dribbling open-mouthed against the pages of an ancient book.

“No lube. Been through worse kid.” Dean smirked, hawked again and spat the contents of his mouth over Sam’s ass hole. And Dean was right of course. Both of them had experienced pain and discomfort a lot worse than being fucked on spit. Sam would gladly get fucked dry and angry above a lot of what he had endured. 

Dean’s dick bent and caught as he shoved it past the first ring of muscle. Sam was relaxed but he was still tight. Dean pumped out a plentiful stream of precome to ease the process because the sight of Sam’s pretty pink ass hole had that effect. Forbidden fruit. And Dean had this ‘thing’ that he liked. Just a small thing but it drove him kind of crazy. And as he bottomed out and Sam grabbed the opposite edge of the table with white knuckles, he asked Sam to say it.

“Go on, Sammy. Say the thing.” Dean said, balls deep and spread over his brother who was ridged with arousal. “Say it. What is this?”

“Incest.” Sam breathed out, working through the pain because Dean’s was one hell of a wide load and the fact that he could take it like he did was too hot for words. “It’s incest.” 

Dean liked that word, it was taboo and disgusting. Didn’t matter how many people he had killed, how many vamps he had beheaded, nor how many random truck-stop waitresses he had fucked. No, incest was the shocking thing. And he loved it.   
Murder. Addiction. Casual sex with strangers. Incest. Might as well add it to the list of endless Winchester indiscretions.   
The table moved across the floor, creaking against the wood no matter how heavy the combined two backed beast of Winchester flesh there was pinning it down. Dean was fucking Sam like no tomorrow. Sam’s dick was smashed up against the table and pressing into his lower stomach like a fist twisting into his abdomen. Dean licked over Sam’s shoulder blades, basting them with his saliva. He bit into any loose flesh he could sink his teeth into and pulled it away from Sam’s bones. They didn’t always fuck like this; sometimes it was slow and gentle, loving and rhythmic but that was all Dean. Dean was the ‘love-maker’, the tentative hands and soft mouth tracing over Sam’s body. But Sam, Sam Winchester had always been partial to a good hard fuck. He split Ruby in half more times than he could mention, the kind of sex that only a little woman possessed by a demon could take. And the only way Sam could induce big brother Dean into drilling him into the table/floor/wall/bed et al was to piss him off. 

Dean, bless his heart. All serious and grunting out Sam’s name and drumming out heavy groans to accompany his snapping hips. ‘Piss me off, Sammy. This is what you get’ as if Sam was taking some kind of punishment when in reality, Sam was grinning to himself. Gleefully happy and stretched open by Dean’s beautiful dick. Pain figured in their lives on the fucking daily, so why shouldn’t Sam take some pain and make it his own. Why not use the mind-bogglingly strong constitution he possessed for his own enjoyment? It made sense to Sam that he could endure hours of torture and turn the experience of pain from punches, stab wounds and gun shots into something beautiful. 

“Fuck me harder, De.” Sam muttered, licking a book page from his mouth and freeing one hand to push said book onto the floor.

“Gonna.” Dean hissed, even though he could see how red and swollen Sam’s ass hole was because he liked to watch because it fascinated him. It became the ‘promotional video clip’ to his inner monologue. ‘Fucking my brother. Dick is inside my baby brother. And Sammy is taking it, he’s loving it. Who cares if we’ve already been to Hell, gonna go back for this. Fuck, it’s worth it.’ To sum up, it made him lose his mind a little. Because Hell had been hell.

Sam was right there with him though. A little stoned, horny and lifting his ass so high, Dean had to stand on his toes to keep cock inside him and pin him down, leaving thick finger bruises along his slender hips. Dean couldn’t/wouldn’t come like that, not when he was as high as a kite because the feeling was so fucking beautiful and ethereal that he held back and it was starting to piss Sam off.

“C’mon De. Fill me up like you wanna.” Sam drawled, lazy voice punctuated with visceral grunts.

“Bedroom.” Dean hissed, pulling out of Sam so roughly it would have hurt anyone else who wasn’t Sam Winchester. 

“No.” Sam turned around and grabbed the bulk of Dean’s hair and face planted him onto the table. Dean fought back pathetically as his doughy body was manhandled onto his back. The wood was unforgiving and one of the two lamps which stood on it was broken forever as Dean kicked it across the room with his foot. And then Sam was on him, sinking down on Dean’s enraged dick and pinning his biceps to the table.  
Clarity. That was what Dean felt as he looked up at Sam. And reality because they had never once fucked not under the influence of alcohol. Sam had never ridden him before either, but not because they were ‘vanilla’ when it came to sex but because it was a relatively new arrangement. Each time it had happened, which had been seven times so far both of them had been blind drunk. Being high was different. Sam wasn’t a blur for Dean, he was right there, sliding up and down on his dick like he had done it a billion times before. Before it had been horseplay, fooling around, doing something stupid while they were drunk. Now though.

“You’re beautiful.” Dean murmured. 

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam smirked and screwed himself onto Dean’s cock which made two green eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

Sam laughed because he was in _that_ kind of a mood, torturing Dean and giving him a vital life lesson.

“Oh.” The ‘oh’ sounded deep and for such a short word was dripping with embarrassment and confusion. Sam looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

“Seen enough?” Sam smirked at Castiel, still holding onto Dean’s lovely arms. 

“Yes.” 

“Go, maybe?” Sam ground down on Dean’s cock who was ridged with embarrassment underneath his body.

“Yes.” Castiel chose to turn away before fluttering off to God knows where.

“Awkward.” Dean hissed, tipping his head back to check that Castiel had really gone and wasn’t observing them with curiosity.

Sam leaned over Dean’s body, the tight heat that was clamped around big brothers’ cock tightened and Dean _felt_ his dick pump out a dribble of precome.

“Went a little soft there, big brother.” Sam purred as he teasingly milked Dean’s cock which worked wonders.

“He has that effect.” Dean smirked, his throat was rough like sandpaper and fuck he could use a drink. Sam sat up, fully seating himself on Dean’s cock. 

“And what effect do I have?” Sam laid a hand on the center of Dean’s chest, his long fingers wrapped around his brothers throat and gripped just enough to cause slight alarm. Dean wasn’t pinned down any more, just pinned by Sam’s sinewy thighs. His cock in a vice of wet heat and fuck, he came. So hard.

Sam had only ever heard Dean make a noise like that when he had been in pain. When his face had been pounded into ground chuck by his good self, all those years ago. Castiel had made Dean all pretty again but of course Sam wouldn’t get see that close up for a good 12 months or so.

“You fuck.” Dean hissed, lifting his ass from the table and taking Sam with him. “Oh God. Fuckin’, yes.” Dean’s eyes were rolling back again, Lilith white and his body was taut as he rode it all out. So much pleasure from one little squeeze from a tight and slightly abused ass hole/asshole. Same difference. There was so much of it, that Dean could feel it leak out and drench his balls. His pubic hair was soaked with it. “Too soon. You’re a cunt.”

“Woah.” Sam gasped. Didn’t matter that he was high and impaled on his brothers cock, Sam _hated_ that word. “Hey, no. Watch your mouth, asshole.” 

“I think I’m entitled.” Dean groaned as he grabbed Sam’s bruised hips. “Get up.”

“Aw, aren’t you going to do me?”

“Do you?” Dean smirked. “You made me come too quick, Sammy.”

“Not my fault you don’t have any self control.” 

“I could hit you right now.” Dean smirked as Sam climbed off, quite demurely which sent a signal straight to Dean’s wilting penis. “But I won’t.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Sam murmured, finding his shirt and putting it on loosely. Dean sat up on his elbows and watched Sam walk across the room and retrieve the blunt from the ashtray. He pursed his lips as Sam sparked up again but he was admiring too. Dean really believed he was a tits and pussy man, he was really but.

“I really fancy you.” 

“What?” Sam’s head snapped around, his hair bouncing, shiny and smooth, like a shampoo commercial. “Sounds like something Crowley would say. Tell me that again.” Sam sat down and kicked his legs up on the opposite chair. “But use Dean words.”

Dean sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the table, he had to grip the edge to keep himself steady. Still beautifully high and fucked out.

“You’re fuckin’ hot.”

“There’s my caveman.” Sam grinned. Dean though, he sat looking at Sam a while who was preoccupied with being a turncoat and indulging himself with the remainder of the joint.

“You are though.” Dean slid from the table, leaving a delightful sticky streak on the surface in his wake. He walked toward his brother and levered one foot in between Sam’s thighs and prized them open. 

“I’m not going to feed your ego by returning the sentiment, De.” Sam said as his feet hit the floor and his legs fell open and Dean ‘fucking’ Winchester knelt down between them. Sam’s eyes said otherwise, and really you’d have to be blind or stupid or both not see how fucking perfect Dean Winchester was. His ‘hotness rating’ rocketed off into the stratosphere though as he slipped two fingers around the base of Sam’s cock and levered it toward him. “Oh.” Sam muttered because Dean had said after ‘Fuck Two’. ‘_Ain’t ever suckin’ that thing Sammy. So don’t ever ask_.’

Dean wasn’t shy about it when he sucked the head of Sam’s dick into his mouth. He didn’t recoil or pull a face or give Sam a look saying, ‘_I’m doin’ this for you, Sammy_.’ It was all want. And who wouldn’t want Sam Winchester’s cock? It wasn’t alarmingly large and it wasn’t like anyone could call Sam a ‘tripod’ but it was more than enough for Dean’s ‘cock-virgin’ mouth and Sam, well he was impressed. Dean took it all in with only the slightest gag, it tasted slightly salty and had light remnants of shower gel about it. The scent still lingering in Sam’s bush. Like the Winchester’s have time to ‘man-scape’. Dean’s technique was pretty textbook, closed eyes, bobbing head but it was Dean, that was all Sam could focus on and it was beautiful beyond words. Sam’s cocky little shit attitude was being sucked out of him, right through his dick. He gripped the edge of the chair, the blunt had gone out and was still between his fingers. 

“Fuck.” Sam murmured and Dean liked that because when he wasn’t high and just being ‘Sam the Nerd’ he rarely cussed. ‘Cussing Sam’ with his cock wedged down his older siblings throat was the kind of awesome Dean loved. Sam’s legs fell apart even more and he heaved the crooks of his knees over the arms of the chair. He threw his head back and Dean had to take a moment to stop and look because Sam looked like such a whore, obscenely spread out and open in every way possible. “Suck my dick. Suck it.” 

Dean pressed his thumbs into the crevices of Sam’s upper thighs and lifted him, as best he could and he sucked because the noises Sam was making were base. Dean had him and Sam Winchester slowly came undone as Dean took him in deep and massaged his cock until he was choking on spunk and pinning his thumbs into Sam’s flesh to keep his baby brother from flying up and out of the chair with orgasmic insanity. 

“Stop.” Sam breathed, pulling his his hips back and slamming his sore ass into the chair. “Fuckin’ stop.” Sam pulled his knees up because it was too much to bear but Dean was laughing around a mouthful of come soaked softening dick. “Bastard.” Sam choked out a chuckle and that worked because Dean pulled off. Sam’s spent dick slapped against his pubes, ‘bowing’ in thanks. A pitiful leaking mess, drenched in Dean’s spit.

“Your jizz tastes like pennies.” Dean said, licking his hooker lips and sitting back on his calves.

“That’ll be the kale.” Sam smirked.


End file.
